


you could be the king, but watch the queen conquer

by chll51



Series: in another life, you'd be mine [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boy Loves Girl, F/M, I need some ArMor in my life, but she loves vengeance more, girl loves boy, the AU that no one asked for, the damsel isn't distressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chll51/pseuds/chll51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>modern au. morgan gets it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you could be the king, but watch the queen conquer

**Author's Note:**

> morgan is morgana. everyone else remains the same. italics part are past.  
> this is inspired by a gorgeous work on tumblr: http://nimueh.tumblr.com/post/98590568926/modern-au-they-say-that-if-pendragons-had-hearts

Morgan Lefay returns home before the seventh anniversary of her disappearance. Every news outlets, paparazzi, and reporters are on the scene, circling the Pendragon manor like sharks to the scent of blood. The image of her gaunt face haunts televisions across the country for the next month.

It isn’t everyday that the dead comes back to _life_.

 

 

 

There are abrasions on her legs, scratches on her face and some bruises on her knuckles and wrists, but she's declared healthy by the family's physician. Her eyes are still vibrantly green; the curls are darker and longer, her lips is redder and skin's paler than the picture on the wall but she’s still the Morgan they know and love. Sort of and not really. “Morgan, do you remember what happened?” asks Gaius, the family's physician, as he shines a light in her eyes. “Who took you or where you’ve been for the last seven years?” 

Her pupil dilates as she flatly answers. “No.”

 

 

 

_Morgan used to wear her name like armor. She knew how to smile without teeth, how to laugh and how to charm. Think of it as playing poker, Uther used to say, and allow everyone but yourself to show their hand. Her eyes were always focused, hands in front, and back straight. She walked with a quiet grace and elegance that were born, not bred._

_Then she was gone, and even Uther with all his wealth and influence couldn’t bring her back._

_People thought, such beauty, such promise. All lost._

 

 

  

When he hears the news, Uther keeps his calm. Igraine stands by his side, hands on his shoulder reassuringly. "You're telling me we know nothing?" he asks, his tone low and sharp, like a knife ready to cut its victim. "Seven years and we have no lead."

Gaius has no choice other than, "No, sire."

His hands turn to fist. He is never used to losing.

  

 

 

_There used to be rumors about how Uther had acquired his wealth, everything from selling military grade weapons, blackmailing high up officials to swallowing smaller corporations by force. They were always unfounded of course, and the public was always eager to forgive and forget if he just presented to them a picture of the ideal family. Because as far as the public knows, Uther's just a regular old dad trying to provide for his children. He went from rags to riches and his story is almost inspirational. Add some charitable donations on top and he can get away with murder._

 

 

 

He watches her chest rises then falls and thinks that this must be a cruel joke that the Gods are playing on him. She was gone for seven years. There was no note, no ransom, or anything of her essence to let anyone know that she was alive. He doesn't understand, and can't compute how a person can go missing one day and comes back the next.

_She was supposed to be dead._

"It's impolite to stare, you know."

He blinks twice, startled by her voice. 

She then sits up and rests herself against the frame. The bed sheets fold to her lap and her hands are rested on them. She sits like a proper lady and he thinks, even with marks on her face, he isn’t sure that she’s the one wounded. "The years have aged you Arthur," says Morgan, as she skims his face. The wrinkles near his mouth, and the corner of his eyes make him look wiser, and more self-assured than the boyish man she last saw. She doesn’t hate it.

He tosses his head back and laughs. "Not all of us can disappear for seven years and still look beautiful."

"You must have missed me more than I thought," says Morgan, chuckling, "because I can’t remember the last time I received a compliment from you."

“Perhaps time was what I needed.” Then something flickers on his face before he says, "I missed you." It's not a declaration of love but it’s implied.

She thinks he has a pretty mouth when he lies.

 

 

 

 _When she was young, she learned how the market worked, how to predict its trend and how to always come out on top. One day, her father said, this will all be yours. Rule it and you can rule the world._

_Then he died and her mom remarried. Things that were promised to her weren't meant for her anymore. She watched as Arthur played catch up, struggling with things that she could do in her sleep, as she became the second choice to things that should have been hers first._

_She hated him before she ever loved him._

 

 

 

“Morgan.” 

She looks to the mother that she hasn’t seen, or thought about during the years gone. There’s fragility to her that Morgan has never developed. It makes her wonder, for people who are supposed to be related, they are nothing alike.

Her mother places a hand on her cheek and she almost shrinks back from the contact. “My darling daughter.”

Morgan moves away from the touch. “It’s late, mother.”

“I just thought—”

“I know what you thought, but nothing has changed.” The hardness in her voice almost makes her cringe. “Those seven years I was gone have not made you into a mother and neither has it made Uther a better father. I was kidnapped, not brainwashed.” 

The image of her pale face imprints on Morgan’s mind like an unwanted tattoo.

 

 

 

_When Morgan was 10, she stopped believing in happily ever after and fairy tales after she walked in on her mother and a man that was not her father. She screamed and she cried and she kicked._

_The only thing her mother said was, “Someday, you’ll understand.”_

_She never did._

 

 

Morgan's first project is to secure land for oversea expansion. Uther doesn't call it a test but she sees the eyes watching her; so she pours herself into the project, days and nights going over the numbers. 

It takes her two weeks to seal the deal and if everything goes according to her calculations, they should see profit within the first year.

Uther throws a celebration in her honor.

She’s groomed, dressed and made up for her debut back to their world.

When she enters, the room silences.

It seems _beauty_ isn't lost after all.

 

 

 

He gives her a kiss on the cheeks, coloring them into a shade of scarlet. "Beautiful, aren't they?" He directs his gaze toward their parents. "Though we both know beauty is only skin-deep." 

"The years have made you a cynic, Arthur." When his eyes linger on her a bit longer than they should, she finds her cheeks burning. "Our parents have lasted a decade. That’s no small feat."

"Of course." He shows her his most charming smile, white teeth and all, as he answers, "I only got nothing but the best wishes for both." He then looks around, puts down his glass and holds his hand out. "Care for a dance?"

She contemplates then accepts. "I guess."

He pulls her to the floor and lays his fingers flatly against the curvature of her back. The warmth from them spread all the way to her toes. She shivers with delight and takes a trembling breath as her eyes drink in the sight of him, from his dirty blond hair, to his high cheeks bone and the perfectly tailored suit that shows his fit physique. She can't help but feels a quickening of her pulse. “You clean up nicely.”

“As do you.” He couldn’t help but think that even with the same dark curls, the perfect red lips that have never smeared, and her vibrant green eyes that can make fools out of the wisest men, she's not the same Morgan that he has grown up with. She feels colder under his touch and more dangerous because he can’t see what she’s thinking anymore. “Father must be happy to have his golden child back.”

"Well someone has to uphold the family name after you fucked everything with legs," says Morgan, keeping her tone light and playful as she leans in, inching her face a breath away that he almost withdraws from her. Her lips barely graze his before she hears a quiet intake of the breath in his side. "Don’t worry Arthur. I won’t bite." She then runs her hand down his chest and feels him tensing underneath his suit. Perhaps Uther hasn’t changed him as much as he likes to think.

 

 

 

_Arthur met her when he was twelve and realized what he can and can’t have._

_He thinks what the hell is wealth and power good for if the one thing he wanted is the one thing he can’t get?_

_So he flaunts his wealth, loves those who love him, kisses and does whomever he likes. He allows himself to be splashed all over the magazines, and for every news outlet to report on his personal life and to condemn him for what every man his age does._

_A warm body is better nothing in the sheets and if he’s lucky, on some days, there’s a hint of black and green in the girls he holds._

 

 

 

He looks like he could tower over her the way Arthur does but he takes up less space. His shoulders are also not as wide and he slouches too much in his suit to look intimidating. His hair is as dark as hers but his eyes echo Arthur's blues. "That's quite an entrance you made." 

She smiles, and the red on her lips shimmer underneath the light like it’s painted with his blood. He thinks that if he’s not careful, she might just swallow him whole again. “It's been awhile, Emrys."

“I see that you’ve wasted no time with Arthur.”

“Is that jealousy in your tone?”

"We both know the answer to that, Morgan,” he says, flashing her an amused grin, “It's a road that neither of us should come back to.”

The smile on her lips never wavers as she answers, “It was fun while it lasted. Perhaps in the next life.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small flash drive. “All you need to do is plug this into Uther’s computer, and I will do the rest.” He hesitates before handing it to her. “It's not too late to turn back.”

She rolls her eyes. "I don't make plans then wonder whether or not I shouldn pull through," she says, "You know me better than that."

He does but he had hopes. "It will hurt Arthur if he finds out."

“ _If_ is a big word.” Her face then lights up like a kid on Christmas morning once the drive ends up in her hand. "We both know that Arthur has never been an inquisitive man."

"He's not the same person as before. Time changes people."

She stares at him before smiling, "People don't change. They just fool themselves into thinking they have."

In that moment, he understands the thought that has plagued him for some time. Even if Morgan’s stripped of her ambition and a drive for revenge, it was never a halo he saw on her head.

  

 

 

_There are two types of women: the ones you stay away from and the ones you marry._

_Emrys likes to think that he has dated enough to know which one Morgan fits into but he was twenty when they met, and she was beautiful and lost. Isn’t that how the story always start? Boy meets girl and tries to save the girl by running into a battle that he never has a chance of winning._

_They just fell into each other naturally. She felt like a haven that he can rest his head upon and her mouth was where he can profess his sins and love; of course he was a fool because she was and never had been lost, and that her beauty was crafted as a weapon to lure in men like him._

_She told him once while they were lying in bed, “You think that I needed saving. I only gave you what you wanted.”_

_Even then, he could never deny her of anything._

 

 

The next day, speculations of Uther's bribery and extortions on political figures come to light.

Just like that, a stain appears on his spotless image.

 

 

 

“I want to know how all these information got out!” Uther barks through the phone. “You have 24 hours to find the culprit!”

Then he falls back down and holds his face in the palm of his hands.

Morgan thinks that he almost looks human.

 

 

 

_When she turned 17, she found out the cause of her father’s death and felt her world collapsed._

_She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. The tears poured out as she choked back the sob. Her fingers reached into her throat, trying to get the words out; she turned hysterical, and somewhere between trying to scream out the hate in her heart, she ended up hovering on the ground, shaking, coughing and crying._

_She decides then that she will spend her life making sure her dad didn’t die in vain._

 

 

 

“Arthur?”

He holds a bottle of vodka in his hand and two shot glasses in the other. “Drink with me.” 

She opens her mouth to protest then changes her mind and allows him to enter instead.

“To us.” He opens the bottle and pours it into the glasses.

Morgan knits her brows together and purses her lips. “For?”

“For all the things that we’ve been through in the past,” he comments and takes the first sip. He clicks his tongue after the burning liquid passes through. He turns over at her, seeing her still holding the glass. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head and downs the shot. “To us.”

 

 

 

_She met a blue eye and blond hair boy when she moved into the Pendragon’s house._

_“His name is Arthur,” her mother said with her hands firmly planted on her shoulders, “He lost his mother when he was young. I hope you two will get along and treat each other like family.”_

_She gave him a glance and decided that she’ll do neither because she hated his toothy grin. She hated the light in his eyes and the easiness in his steps; but most of all, she hated that he’s nothing like his father._

 

 

 

He lands on top of her. Somehow she thinks that he has planned it all along. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. When his thumb finds its way across her lips, she holds her breath as her chest pounds loudly. Then he dives his fingers underneath her curls and gently strokes behind her ear, and she swears, she hears her heart flat lining.

“Get off,” she says, without much conviction, and almost breathless, “before someone finds us.”

"What are you afraid of Morgan?” asks Arthur. His warmth breath makes the hair on the back of her neck stands up. She hates that he can make her more uncomfortable than she’d like to admit. He then pulls back, leaving a couple of inches between her face and his. “That you still care for me more than you let on?”

Her cheeks flush bright red as her lips part.

He then laughs and rolls away from her. “You must excuse my boorish behavior,” he says and holds out a hand to help her up. “I wanted to see your reaction.”

“And did you—”

Before she could say another word, he crushes his lips on her. It's sloppy and rough and not like him but this isn't love; he reminds himself. He doesn't need to be gentle, because they're nothing to each other. Just people bound by their parents' marriage. "I don't know what you did to me," whispers Arthur, as he kisses the side of her mouth and trails down to her neck. God knows he had never had a brotherly thought about her since they met and his only memory of her are the scars she left on his heart. "But you ruined me."

She cups his cheek and he leans into the touch. "You're too sentimental, Arthur." She lifts her head up and kisses his jaw. Then her fingers work his belt and shirt as she nicks his throat with her mouth. "This means—”

He doesn’t let her finish before capturing her mouth and eases her into him. He kisses her like he's trying to find air, desperate and needy, as she clings to him and digs her nail into his back. He lowers the strap of her night dress and lets his hands roam every familiar peaks and curves, turning greedier with every taste, and wanting to brand her places that only he'd know of when he looks at her, and to make her feel that she's his when she's anything but.

His name's the last word to leave her mouth when she comes.

 

 

 

_She asked him once, “Which will it be, Arthur? Love or duty?”_

_He never answered the question._

 

 

“You know what I never quite understood,” Uther says quietly, after he called Morgan into his office. “How you were able to come home.”

Calmly, she answers, “Oh?”

“How it took you seven years to come back. How, within just a couple of months, there was a security breach within Pendragons Corp,” Uther says, then throws a flash drive across the desk. It lands right in front of her. “I found your little virus.”

She chuckles and claps her hand. “Bravo.”

"You think your friends and their little gadget can get one over me? " he asks, "I did not built this empire by being second best.”

“No, you built this empire on other people’s blood and tears,” she says, standing up. “Don't think for a second that I don’t know you were the one that caused my father's death. Your hands will always be stained with blood.”

“If I remember correctly, you are fed, clothed and educated by my blood stained hands,” he smiles, “As much as you loath me, you have reaped the benefits of my wealth."

She concedes, as she roams around the room. “True, and that’s why I moved all your money and transfer the majority of your stock to Arthur's name.”

His face pales.

“That virus you found was a decoy.” She then rests her hand on his shoulders and bends down. “Everything you love and come to cherish, I will tear them apart one by one. First is your wealth. Next is Arthur. The boy's in love with me, which you already knew, and all I need is a sob story for him to side with me."

In a fit of anger, Uther pushes her to the ground and grabs her neck. “You—” His eyes burn with rage as he tightens his grip. “I have treated you like a daughter.”

Gasping, “I never thought of you as anything less than a murderer,” chokes Morgan as she squirms under his hold. Her arms stretch out and reach for the gun she planted under his desk.

_Bang Bang._

Two shots to the chest. 

He gasps for air as her fingers shake and her body goes numb. He releases her and stumbles back. The room spins; and there’s a siren that goes off in her head. The tears blur her eyes and the gun slips through her fingers. His hand presses against his chest but the blood still pours and stains his shirt. He hits the ground with a small exhales.

“You—” Blood spurts from his mouth before he could finish. His eyes then close and his hands turn cold.

_Long lives the King_

 

 

 

Arthur finds her sitting by his father’s lifeless body. He sees the marks on her neck, the tears on her face, the shakiness of her hand and just knows. “Morgan.”

She hiccups and shakes her head. “I—I—It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she says, quietly, in between sobs. “I wanted to tell him about us—I wanted—”

He gathers her into his arms and hushes her like he’s trying to calm a small child. She buries her face into his shirt as she lets out cries that he hasn’t heard since they were young. She’s so light in his arms but heavy on his heart. "We will fix this.” He then releases her from his grasp and looks at her with his baby blues. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She nods and grabs onto him like he’s the savior she’s been waiting for.

If there’s anything Morgan knows is that damsel in distressed has always been his Achilles heel.

 

 

 

The world learns of Uther’s disappearance a week later.

No one cries harder than Morgan with her perfectly arranged hair, red lips and black dress.

 

 

 

Truth is: 

Morgan is more like Uther than she'd ever accept. He might be the devil but she's bred from his hands.

 

 

 

_Bang bang._

_Long live the queen._


End file.
